


Lokisblót

by crushing83



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM Scene, Biting, Cane, Caning, F/M, I don't know what I'm doing, Light BDSM, Non-Sexual Kink, Non-Sexual Submission, One Shot, Pagan Gods, Paganism, Reader-Insert, Safewords, Spanking, Top Gabriel, Tumblr Challenge, Tumblr Prompt, bottom reader, but i'm trying anyway, natural rattan cane, no sexual contact, non-sexual bdsm, not a bdsm how-to, sex toy imagine, stoplights, we can write better challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 15:30:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8166869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: Someone notices the little gifts you'd been leaving around the club on the night of its annual gods-and-goddesses party...





	

**Author's Note:**

> (I feel like I need to say this is a work of fiction and not at all a how-to on meeting a play partner or playing in BDSM. If you're going to jump in for the first time, pleeeease please please vet your potential partners. Ask other members of the local scene about the person(s) you're considering, meet with them in public. For this story, I completely skipped over that step and I don't want anyone to think it's not important. It _is_. )

"It's my day, you know," he said, from almost directly behind you. "The club decided to have their pantheon of the gods theme night on my day. I haven't celebrated in a very long time, but even I have my weaknesses." 

"It's _Lokisblót_ ," you whispered. 

The man made a pleased sound, a cross between a growl and a hum. "Someone taught you the _Forn Siðr_ ," he said. "Nice. Is that why you left the treats on the little altars?" 

You turned. You didn't think anyone had noticed your antics or put together what you'd been doing. The man who had been watching you in the club's main playroom, the one with the golden eyes and wicked smirk, was the one standing with you in the more secluded area near some of the private rooms. He was a pleasant surprise; not someone you'd have suspected of being pagan, and not someone who appeared to be preparing to give you grief for celebrating the passing of time the way your grandmother taught you to do. He grinned, maybe seeing something of what you were feeling and thinking in your eyes, or maybe simply being pleased with you in return. 

"Yeah, I saw you. I saw you the moment you came in," he said. "And I noticed. All the little squares of chocolate. On every fake altar. I thought it was a generic _blót_ , but now that you know it's my day..." 

"So, you're Loki tonight?" you asked. He wasn't wearing a toga (sheet) or costume like some of the others, so the question couldn't hurt. 

He snorted, seemingly reacting to a joke to which you weren't privy. Then, he put his hands in his back pockets and walked towards you. "Pixie Sticks, I'm Loki every night," he said. 

"Pixie Sticks?" you echoed, fighting (and losing) the urge to giggle. 

"Just paying homage to my worshipper's delicious legs," the man---Loki, at least for the evening---said. He grinned, leaning towards you as you laughed. "What? Too much?" 

"A little," you admitted. "I'm not used to... a god telling me he likes my legs." 

"Well. Most of my quirky pagan family wouldn't appreciate those gams, but I've always had better taste than them," he said, shrugging a little. He pulled out one of your chocolate squares and peeled the foil off of it. "Thanks for the offerings, heathen. My own stash was running low." 

Normally, being called a heathen was combined with a tone of disdain or fanaticism. When Loki said it, there was something warm in his tone. Honour, perhaps---or, at the very least, appreciation. You felt your cheeks flushing under his gaze and you looked away to hide your reaction from his seemingly sharp gaze. 

"Are you a member here?" he asked. "Or are you just visiting the local kink club and classing up the joint with a bit of old-time religion?" 

After laughing again, you smiled at him. "I'm a member here. Trying to combine a bit of faith with a bit of fun, I guess... decided to come in for their theme night." 

Loki smirked. "Mmm, perfect. Whatcha into, cupcake?" 

"I... um..." 

Looking down, to give yourself time to gather words for your answer, you caught sight of a (thin, whippy) cane hanging from Loki's belt. Impact play was always something you enjoyed; you remembered the last time someone used one of those canes on you, remembered feeling the welts and bruises for days after the play session. As you shivered under the effect of those memories, a warm hand slipped around your jaw and guided your head up again. 

"Like my staff?" he asked. 

You nodded. He smirked again. "I use stoplights," you whispered. "And the club rules. Plus, no fluids, no sexual contact." 

"How about we go with... if it's covered, we just don't touch it?" Loki asked. After you gave him another nod, he continued asking about other possibilities. "How about biting? Or kissing?" 

"Those... are acceptable," you said, aware your whisper had lost most of its sound. "Good, even." 

Loki's golden eyes seemed to glow brighter in the dimly lit space. That couldn't be right, you knew, but whatever trick of light that was occurring made him look more holy than his canvas jacket and jeans made him look ordinary. When he smiled, more than a smirk but less than a grin, you nodded your head towards one of the open doors, a gateway to one of the remaining private rooms in the building. Loki responded by rubbing his thumb over your lips as his other hand covered one of yours. 

"You give yourself to me freely, as sacrifice, on the day of my celebration?" he asked. 

"Yes, Loki," you whispered back. 

His grin was shark-like; it gave a feral edge to his face. You wondered what he'd look like in robes, in the middle of a sacred grove before his followers and bathed in torch-light; the image was so potent and wild it made you shiver again. 

"Oh, sweetness, I'm gonna take you to heights you've never experienced before," Loki purred.

He kissed your forehead before taking a step back to one of the rooms designed for playing without being observed. The doors had no locks and dungeon monitors occasionally peeked in, but they were as private as one could get in that place. You looked around; there was a Saint Andrew's Cross in one corner, bolted to the floor, and an oversized armchair was in the opposite corner, while the wall between them was covered in restraints and toys hanging from hooks. 

Loki walked around the room, taking in everything as you were doing (you assumed), and then he circled you slowly. He brushed his body against yours on one pass; he put more distance between you on the next. When he stopped moving, ending up at your side, he leaned in and brushed his lips against your temple before speaking. 

"I want you to get as undressed as you'd prefer to be and stand in front of the cross," he whispered. "I want you to relax, take a few deep breaths... whatever you need to do. Put your hands on the rings at the top and lean your weight against the cross when you're ready." 

He nipped at the shell of your ear. You whimpered, leaning into the touch instead of flinching away. He rewarded you with a nibble on your jawline; when he stepped back again, he was smirking at you and taking all of you in with his steady, heavy gaze. You knew the dominant who could read minds was a myth, a ridiculous myth propagated by erotic literature, but you couldn't shake the idea that he knew more about you than he probably should. It felt like he was seeing _all_ of you, not just the parts you chose to share with the other club members. 

"I'm waiting." 

Sucking in a deep breath, knowing your cheeks were flushing, you nodded and moved towards the cross. You bent at the waist, untied your boots, and slipped out of them and your socks; after setting the boots (and your balled-up socks) along the wall, you pulled your top up and over your head, leaving you in a bra and your skirt. The bra, you unfastened and tossed onto the floor, after your shirt; you turned away from Loki and shimmied out of your skirt. 

"Damn." 

You smiled over your shoulder, catching his eye. "Like what you see?" 

"You are perfection," he growled. "All those curves are... all _mine_. Damn it. I was only going to pop in, teach that Fifty-Shades monster downstairs a lesson, and leave again, but... you... you are worth sticking around for, Hot Pants." 

His words didn't entirely make sense---who was that guy he was talking about? what sort of lesson?---but you could sense his genuine appreciation for your body in his tone of voice. It was flattering. It had been a long time since someone new, someone who wasn't a friend doing you a favour while blowing off some of their own steam, saw value in taking you as their bottom for a little while. Loki's wide eyes and enthusiastic words made your pulse quicken and your cheeks warm. 

You stood in front of the cross, looking down at the intersection of wood, and you tried to get into the right frame of mind for the stingy pain coming your way. Thudding impacts were your preference, but every once and a while, you relished the sharp bite of a thinner implement. You'd never seen Loki in the club before, so you didn't know how he'd handle the cane, but his confidence didn't come across like an act. You suspected you were in for a very good time if you could relax and give yourself over fully to Loki's attentions. 

Rolling your head from one side to the other, you took in a deep breath. Your eyes closed as you exhaled, your shoulders dropped; you tried to blank your mind, but you had questions and concerns like any other person and in the nervousness you always felt before a session they were fluttering through your head. It took a few more breaths and a few more stretches before you felt ready, your thoughts a little quieter than when you started your trek to the cross; you put your hands up on the rings usually used for restraints feeling like you'd done the best you could to prepare yourself according to Loki's instructions. 

"Good girl," Loki said quietly. "Nervous?" 

"A little," you replied. 

He crossed the room on light and quick feet. You heard a rustle, then a couple of faint steps, before feeling his body against yours. One of his hands smoothed over your arm, sliding to from your shoulder to your wrist and back again. 

"Green means go... yellow means slow down or ease off... red means full stop?" he asked. 

Nodding, you said, "Yes." 

"Good girl," he murmured. "Be as loud as you want. Your offering is an honour I want to savour with all of my senses." 

You nodded again. Loki tucked his face against the back of your neck. You heard him inhale deeply; his groan as he exhaled vibrated through you and caused you to shiver. After pushing your hair off to the side, he kissed and bit his way across your shoulder. Every nip of his teeth sent another shiver across your nerves; his hands on your hips were grounding, but they also reminded you of your position, between the cross and Loki's body. You were trapped, no matter how willingly, and as Loki took the time to explore your back and sides with his mouth and hands you were beginning to realize how thorough this man was going to be. 

A sharp slap to the back of your upper thigh jolted you from your thoughts. 

"Focus," Loki said, his voice quiet and authoritative. 

A (surprising) bite to the place he'd struck made you mewl in reaction. 

"Better. I want you focused on what I'm doing to you---not what I could do to you." 

You shivered again. The potential in his words almost had you lost in thought, but you struggled to stay in the moment to please Loki. He wasn't the real trickster---he couldn't be, could he? deities didn't move around the world as people, mingling with their worshippers, did they?---but he seemed to be a decent person who wanted your attention and you could give him that so he, too, could enjoy your time together. 

He slapped the back of your other thigh. Under the impact, you grunted. Loki chuckled and you felt his breath on your skin; you expected another bite but you were surprised when he placed a sucking kiss over the spot he'd hit. 

"Bruises?" 

"Yes, please," you whispered. 

Loki laughed again. "I like you," he said against your skin, kissing his slow way up your spine as if he had all the time in the world. When he stood and nipped at your shoulder blade, when you inhaled sharply and pressed back into him, he kissed your skin and added, "I might decide to make you mine if you keep it up." 

"Let's see how this goes first, before you get any ideas about commitment," you said in reply. 

Snorting back what sounded suspiciously like a giggle, Loki pressed his forehead to your spine. 

"Back when pagans ruled the world, I would claim anyone I cared to if they made the right sacrifices, and they'd see it as a divine honour," he said. His fingers curled around your hips. "You want to make me wait? I like your moxie." 

A comment about him not _really_ being Loki was on the tip of your tongue, but just as you were about to give it your voice Loki spanked your left ass cheek five times in quick succession. Rising onto the balls of your feet with the force of his last swing, you took in a deep breath before settling back on the ground. 

"And now for the other side," he mused. "I like things even." 

You weren't surprised when the last of five spanks to your right cheek had you rising up, too. 

"Colour check?" Loki asked. 

"Definitely green," you said. 

"I'm going to warm up your skin with some more spanking," he said as his hands travelled up to your shoulders. "And then when you're good and rosy, I'll put my cane to that delicious ass of yours. Sound good?" 

"Mmm, yes, please." 

"And if you can stay reasonably still while I do all of this, I'll be pleased," he whispered near your ear. "So pleased that I will be inclined to grant you a boon." 

Nodding, you let your head lean to the left, resting on your arm. Loki kissed your neck as he squeezed your shoulders. When his hands lifted away from your body, you expected them to make (forceful) contact with your ass or thighs, but Loki started a light rhythm of slaps against your upper back. The hits peppered over your shoulders, varying in force but never getting too strong. 

You hunched your back into the impacts before straightening, rolling both of your shoulders under his hands. It was a ritual of yours, something to put you in the moment. You half-expected to be scolded, but Loki only made a quiet, amused sound as he continued down your back. You could feel your skin warming, each slap made your nerves tingle; you sighed happily and felt your muscles start to relax as he continued on his way to the backs of your thighs. 

"Still green?" 

You nodded and hummed in the affirmative. Loki chuckled and returned back up to your shoulders. He repeated that journey a couple of times, before stopping and checking in with you. 

"Still green," you told him. 

Loki brushed his fingers, whisper-light, over your shoulders. Before you could control the impulse, you were twitching and giggling under the touch. 

"Oooh, you are ticklish!" Loki exclaimed, sounding entirely too gleeful for your liking. "I wonder how you'll react when I touch the cane marks like this..." 

"Oh, fuck," you muttered. 

His hand spanked your ass so quickly you didn't see it coming---and so forcefully that the resounding _clap!_ of skin on skin echoed in the small room. You moaned before you were aware of reacting. Chuckling, Loki brushed his fingers over the spot he'd hit. When you shivered he moved his hand away and pressed his body against yours. 

"Now, the only thing I'm wondering is... do I want to leave a pattern of lines up the backs of your thighs," he whispered, "or do I want to hit the same spot on each cheek over and over until I raise some colour in your skin?" 

_Oh god._  

"Well?" he asked. 

"I... whatever you'd prefer? Both?" 

Loki purred near your ear. Then, he said, "Greedy girls don't get rewards." 

"Whichever would please you, Loki," you quickly said, remembering the role he was playing. "Wearing either set of your marks would be an honour." 

"Mmm, such a good little heathen," he said, "to remember your place." 

He stepped aside, his body brushing against yours, and once there was some space between you felt the tip of the cane against your spine. It trailed down to the waistband of your thong, before traveling along the narrow lace band. You wanted to shift, to wiggle, but you remembered him saying he wanted you to remain as still as possible so you did your best to curb the impulse. His hum could have been praise, but it could have been contemplation, too, so it kept you on edge as you waited for the whistle (and bite) of the first blow. 

The first strike stung, as did the two that immediately followed, but the pain barely registered. They were test hits, just below the lace band around your hips, across the width of your body and using most of the thin, wooden cane. He travelled down, maybe half an inch (though it was hard to tell), and struck you again with a bit more force. The sting and icy pain gave way to warmth as your skin reacted to the impact. 

"Oooh, a nice little line," he commented. 

"Thank you, Loki," you breathed. 

"So polite," he said, his voice taking on a teasing---and possibly daring---tone. "Let's see if that lasts through to the end." 

The next few hits had you curling your toes against the hardwood floor as the initial chill of the cane's bite gave way to a burn across your hurt nerves. Each knock was carefully placed, one beneath the other, and they were nearly perfectly straight as far as you could tell. You would have been more impressed with his skill if you weren't fighting the urge to protect your backside with your hands; you knew you'd eventually yield but the first impacts were always the hardest, always taking your self-restraint to its limits before you remembered how to completely submit. 

Loki didn't talk after every blow. Sometimes he'd brush his hand over your shoulder or gently tug on your hair; sometimes he'd murmur "good girl" as he teased your hip with his fingers. Once, he leaned in and sucked a spot of skin at the base of your neck with so much force he had you whimpering. There was always something between strikes (or groupings of strikes) and it helped you find the quiet place in your mind that was necessary for submission. 

By the time the cane was hitting the lower curve of your ass, only a little bit above where it met your thighs, you could feel yourself quivering and you could hear yourself whimpering. Loki checked in with you every few strikes and you found that reassuring. You waited for each hit, you started savouring the way the sting amplified the heat in the previous marks, and as Loki continued that blossoming sensation swept you into the quiet, into the dark behind your eyelids, and you started to drift. 

"Look at you," Loki said, his voice nearly crooning at your ear. "So strung out you're shaking. And I still have some skin to mark. Are you gonna make it?" 

"Uh huh," you replied, nodding. "I'm greeeen." 

Loki laughed and kissed the side of your head. "Just ten more---maybe fifteen," he murmured. "Let's get you flying." 

You hummed and turned your head into your arm. He brushed his fingers over his previous marks and cackled gleefully when you cursed and moaned. The next strike of his cane came as soon as you were settling, cold then hot like all the others but stronger in its intensity. 

The remaining lashes with the cane built up a crescendo in strength that nearly brought you to your knees. The darkness in your mind gave way to twinkling stars, little bursts of brightness that came with each hit and lingered as you recovered. 

You weren't aware that you were shuddering until Loki put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed. He became a point of stability, grounding you in the face of so much sensation. 

"Good girl," he murmured. "So good. Look at you, so close to the edge... I wonder what will push you off it." 

What was left of your conscious, put-together mind was prepared for his fingers to brush over the marks he made. It had not prepared for what happened next. 

Loki brought what felt like the tip of the cane to the back of your left leg. After dragging it up your thigh, over all the marks he left, he brought it across your ass in a wavy line before taking it back down your right leg. 

Sensation exploded along your nerves---hot, cold, burning, too much, just enough, _oh holy hell_ \---and you lost your grip on everything but the rings in your hands. A tingling sensation raced through you, affecting every inch of your body in a way only the treading of the pleasure-pain line ever could. You heard a shout, only vaguely recognising it sounded like your voice, and you felt a tremor wrack your body as you got swept away. 

Loki's body pressing against yours, his clothing both irritating and soothing your inflamed skin, brought you back to yourself. You'd bitten your arm where you'd hidden your face, thankfully not enough to break the skin (but you'd be sporting a bruise there for a while), and you were breathing deeply as if you'd run a race. Your legs weren't quite steady, but Loki was holding you against the cross as if your nearly-dead weight was nothing. 

"Back with me?" he asked. 

"Mmph." 

He chuckled. After a kiss to the back of your head, he gathered you up in his arms and carried you over to the armchair. Somehow---you weren't tracking events very well in your foggy state---he got you wrapped in a soft blanket and into his lap. His fingers brushed at your mouth, making you realise you'd been drooling a little (and that would be embarrassing once you were more alert); when you looked up into his face, he smiled at you with a gentle expression in his face and eyes. 

"We can have the room for a little bit longer," he said, "so let's just sit and recover." 

You nodded. He held up a bottle of water and let you watch him crack open its cap; you weren't sure where he found it, but you were glad for the drink. As you sipped from the bottle he continued to hold, he kissed your head and rubbed his other hand up and down your blanketed body in slow strokes.

"Thank you," he murmured. 

"Mm, right back atcha," you said as you finished with the water. "I'm gonna be sitting funny for at least a couple of days." 

Loki's reply of laughter vibrated through you. You smiled and allowed yourself the indulgence of rubbing your face against his chest. He brushed his fingers through your hair and fell pretty close to silent---except that every few minutes he would check in with you or tip your head back to evaluate you before letting you snuggle in again. Your body was aching and your mind wasn't racing; both seemed to be in alliance, finding comfort and relaxing, and you were not complaining. 

"This is what I like about this stuff... the quiet," you whispered. 

"If you didn't want me to talk before---" 

You quickly lifted your head and cut off his words. "No, no... talking's good," you said. "And some of the things you were saying... fuck, yeah, they worked. I mean the quiet in my head. No worries, no second-guessing... no racing thoughts. Everything's just quiet." 

"Are you going to drop later?" Loki asked. 

"Maybe," you admitted. "I'm pretty okay at managing it."

"Will you... if I give you my number, will you text me to let me know how you're doing? Especially if it gets bad?" 

"And what'll you do? Come riding to my rescue?" 

"If you want. I'll bring ice cream," Loki replied. "Or I could just talk to you, tell you some ridiculous stories to get you laughing." 

You were so used to managing sub-drop yourself, not always successfully, that the idea of having support was both terrifying and wonderful. That Loki wanted to help told you he was a decent guy---and maybe someone you could trust, as a person and as a play partner if he were interested. 

"Sounds good," you murmured. "I like anything with chocolate." 

Loki chuckled. "Perfect." 

After another ten or so minutes, you insisted you needed to get dressed so you could go home. Loki helped you stand and didn't let go of you until you seemed more or less stable. You wandered over to your discarded clothes and started putting yourself back together. Meanwhile, Loki wiped the cross down with a sanitizing wipe from the supplies in the corner of the room. 

When you were dressed, you felt adrift and a little hesitant to leave. Loki smiled at you and crossed the floor; he took your hands in his, slipping a paper into one of them. 

"My number," he explained. "Call any time. Seriously. My schedule has me keeping strange hours. If I don't answer right away, I will as soon as I'm free." 

"It's okay. I know you have a life," you said. 

He released your hands and pulled you into a hug. You sank into him, loving how strong he seemed to be for only being a little taller than you; when he stroked his hands down to your backside, he squeezed and laughed when you whimpered and wriggled. 

"Ass." 

He grinned at you. "I know," he replied, his chest puffing out a bit, "and it's a glorious one." 

"Seriously?" 

Loki laughed again. "Definitely. I will always be serious about that ass of yours, heathen. It's gorgeous." 

You rolled your eyes and nudged him away from you. He continued to grin at you. 

"You gonna be okay to get home?" he asked after a minute. 

Nodding, you said, "Yeah. I'm good. I'll text you tomorrow." 

"Sounds like a plan." 

You started to move towards the door, but it struck you that you didn't even have his name. You turned back to him. 

"Do I get a name to work with?" you asked. 

His eyes widened briefly---so briefly you almost didn't catch the change---and then he smiled. 

"Gabriel," he replied. "You can call me Gabriel." 

"Thank you for the good night, Gabriel." 

He grinned. A moment later, he snapped his fingers and disappeared from sight. 

The End!

  

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed any part of it, please consider leaving a comment to let me know what worked (and what didn't, as long as it's in a constructive way).


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